


Authentic

by Abreannero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abreannero/pseuds/Abreannero





	Authentic

￼

He always thought of her as attractive, but had never truly seen her beauty.

He knew of her gentle, shining eyes, how they softened when they fell upon him or crinkled when she grinned. They were glazed in her every emotion; part of the reason why he fell so easily for her.

Her smiles, full of charm and a consistent, benevolent tone that shook him to the core of his cruel heart and played his ribs like a xylophone. She absolutely melted him, metal parts included, and he hadn’t the willpower to pull himself away.

Slick could not decipher the anger he felt when another’s gaze was on her, could not explain the surge of fluttering, tingling warm over his chest when she touched him, could not begin to articulate the why’s and how’s of love and affection. All he knew was that he needed her, but not in a way he could say.

Past the curvy figure, past the small feet and onyx eyes and laughs punctuated by smiles was a winding hurricane of nurturing strength. How she managed sanity with that white-haired maniac was a miracle unto itself. An accepting, elegant lady was all he could conjure up to describe her. She never once found him frightening or possibly inferior, even after the addition of metal. Like always, she met him with open arms and a tolerant demeanor, as if he should have expected any less.

A woman like her was ideal for a man like him. He always assumed he’d find a girl into the killing business, a tough, toiling, afraid of nothing woman. While Ms. Paint was definitely docile in comparison to his expectations, that was not entirely terrible. He found that he did not want a partner that was utterly temerarious in nature, rivaling his own violent behavior. He needed a balance, an equaling factor that forced him to think through potential actions and remember what was beneficial, what was priority. 

She had hopes. She had dreams. She had fears. That was what made her real, that was what made her a tangible, beautiful creature. She was not perfection, she was not flawless, she was not infallible by any means. She, with her colorful clothes, her clapping hands, her cultivating disposition and manner of being simultaneously sweet and intimidating, was not impeccable. But she was constant, tender, amiable, a trustworthy, valiant woman, an upstanding woman. Past those good looks was a heart of gold and an iron fist.

Slick flexed his hands. He needed to marry her. 

 


End file.
